Past Relations (Prts 01 and 02 revised)
by Michael Donovan
Summary: An Initiative attack captures Gabriel and leaves Giles paralyzed and in a coma. Feeling lost and alone, Buffy calls the one person she can think of to help her. Angel.


PAST RELATIONS  
  
  
Written by: Michael K. Donovan  
  
mike@vmp-canada.com  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The character of Gabriel Giles was introduced in a previous story I wrote entitled 'Divergent Paths'.  
  
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc.   
  
  
Summary: An Initiative attack captures Gabriel and leaves Giles paralyzed and in a coma. Feeling lost and alone, Buffy calls the one person she can think of to help her. Angel.  
  
Part 01: The attack goes down and the gang is left reeling. After receiving a call from Buffy, Angel packs up the office and heads to Sunnydale.  
  
Part 02: Gabriel finds himself imprisoned in the Initiative complex with an unpleasant neighbor while Angel adjusts to the changes in Sunnydale since he left. Searching for clues to Gabriel's whereabouts, Buffy and Angel confront Parker Abrams. Meanwhile, the Scoobies both old and new get reacquainted.  
  
PAST RELATIONS  
  
  
Written by: Michael K. Donovan  
mike@vmp-canada.com  
  
  
Spike scurried stealthily around the corner of a stone mausoleum, keeping low to the ground. Pale moonlight shone overhead, bathing the graveyard in constant bluish illumination. His pursuers were close, less than fifty feet away, but he still hoped to avoid them.  
  
Three Initiative soldiers, decked out in full army fatigues and gear, crept along in single file, watching for him in the dark. Spike's angry yellow eyes followed them and he silently cursed the chip in his head for perhaps the millionth time since it had been implanted. Free of its influence, he would have gladly faced them down and killed them with relish. Instead, he had no choice but to hide in the shadows like a cockroach.  
  
The soldiers closed to within ten feet, still unaware of him. So close, under other circumstances . . . but thinking wouldn't change reality. Escape was his only feasible option. Tossing a handful of pebbles against the far wall of the mausoleum as a distraction, he charged from the bushes behind the lead soldier and cut across his path between the other two.  
  
"Go! Go!" the leader shouted, taking up immediate pursuit.  
  
The men were fast, bounding after him with dedicated energy as he whipped around a series of crooked headstones and ducked between two narrow trees. Spike's long, black coat flared out behind him like a cape as he rushed over the uneven ground.  
  
The soldiers kept pace, close behind. All three were armed with those damnable stun-guns and he half-expected to feel a blast of electricity slam into him at any moment, but for some unknown reason none of them took the shot.   
  
He crested a hill and took a sharp turn, bolting through the tall grass for the perimeter of the graveyard. The wrought iron gate was high, but he was sure he could make it. He charged the fence and leaped up, nimbly pulling himself toward the top.  
  
The lead soldier dove and grabbed onto a dangling leg, hauling on it with all his strength. Spike snarled in annoyance and resisted him, clinging tenaciously to the top of the fence and kicking with his free leg. The other two joined in and together the soldiers dragged him to the ground by the feet.  
  
Enraged, Spike whirled on them, hands open and ready. The three circled cautiously, still choosing to ignore their guns.  
  
"Don't worry." The leader advised his friends as he readied a net made of thin, strong fibers, "As long as the implant's intact, he's harmless."  
  
Spike glared at the speaker. Harmless?! William the Bloody had been called many things in his hundred and twenty six years of undeath, but never that. He had never been so insulted.  
  
"I'll show you harmless, Nancy-boy!" he growled, lifting a head-sized rock and heaving it at the closest soldier.  
  
The instant it impacted and the young man went down, a burst of blinding, skull-splitting pain hit him. Spike screamed and hit the ground, clawing at his head in a futile attempt to dislodge the chip. Whatever the Initiative had done to him, they had done a good job. Even indirectly, he was unable to harm a human without serious repercussions. Damn them!  
  
The commandos closed in quickly and, despite the incapacitating pain, he struggled to fight on, climbing weakly to his feet and shoving desperately at them as they circled him with the net. The bindings tightened around him and tied up his arms, pulling him off balance and knocking him to the ground. He hit with an unceremonious thud and thrashed violently, snarling and gnashing his teeth.  
  
The leader stepped over him and cinched up the free ends of the netting, readying him for transport.  
  
"You gave a good chase, Hostile Seventeen." He remarked confidently, "But it's over now. You're as good as done."  
  
The other two nodded to each other and gave a short high-five, further humiliating the fallen vampire.  
  
"I'll kill you!" Spike threatened vehemently, "I'll cut the whole bloody lot of you to ribbons when I get out of this!"  
  
The soldiers pinned him to the ground and one of them ripped a length of silvery duct tape off a roll on his belt. Spike jerked and struggled as the soldier pressed the tape tightly over his mouth.  
  
"There, that's better." The young man remarked, rising to his feet again and signaling to his companions, "The coats are going to be real happy once you're back in containment."  
  
Powerless, Spike could only glare baleful daggers as they hoisted him up and carted him off.  
  
***  
  
Buffy woke gradually and sighed to herself, feeling the warmth of soft bed sheets around her. Gabriel slept peacefully next to her, almost completely silent in the stillness of the early morning hour. Rolling toward him with a drowsy smile, she rested her head on the pillow next to his, studying his handsome features with pride.  
  
A beam of warm sunlight shone through the window, directly on his face but unnoticed by him as he slept. One arm hung over his head, exposing smooth, well-toned muscle along his chest and stomach and his head was tilted back, his mouth slightly open with a faint, pleasant smile on his bow-shaped lips. She always liked the way the sun brought out the auburn of his hair, setting each individual strand aglow. He looked so cute when he was asleep, vulnerable yet strong.  
  
She had been spending many of her nights with him lately, most of them at his modest, one-bedroom apartment. Despite how much they had shared together since coming to know one another, she still found it hard to believe sometimes how comfortable she felt with him. The connection between them was a strong one. As the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, he possessed perception and power beyond the human norm, as well as the burden of responsibility such abilities entailed, just like her. Gabriel had taught her as well as learned from her, loved her and proved worthy of her love in return.   
  
Tracing soft fingertips admiringly over his bare chest and up to his neck, she crawled closer and leaned over him, feeling the unmistakable, warm tingling of their interacting auras wash over her. She had long since learned to expect it, but the sensation still sent a shiver of excitement through her.   
  
With a self-indulgent chuckle, she closed her lips over his, sucking gently and pulling on his mouth until she felt him stir and awaken under her. She held the kiss a moment longer, enjoying the tickling tingle as it lingered on her tongue, then released him and settled down against his shoulder.   
  
"Hi." She whispered softly, her eyes squinted, bright and smiling, watching as his eyelids fluttered open.  
  
He groaned quietly with a languid stretch, regarding her with a smirk and warm, sleepy, half-open eyes.  
  
"Hey." He reached out and tenderly tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear, his voice low and breathy as if he was afraid to fully awaken himself, "You don't have to go to school already, do you?"  
  
"No, not for a little while yet." she snuggled in close and gripped his hand, rolling to press her back against him and wrapping his arm around her like a favorite blanket.   
  
"Mm. Good." He let his eyes sag shut again and nuzzled affectionately against the nape of her neck, squeezing her close.  
  
She relaxed and curled in his embrace, toying idly with the fingers of his right hand and smiling contentedly to herself. She liked having him like this, drowsy and pliable.  
  
Gabriel usually had to work while she was at school, identifying and cataloging various items for the art gallery where her mother worked, but today he had been given an extra day off.   
  
"So what are you going to do today?" she inquired quietly.   
  
He took a moment to answer, stirring sluggishly against her, "Uncle Rupert's dropping by to show me some old slides he found in his attic. Then I'm supposed to go over to Xander's. He's having a barbecue."  
  
"Ah." She nodded in understanding, "Chef Harris' famous charcoal and hot dogs."  
  
"Mm-hm." He sighed sleepily, "God knows why he thinks I'd eat a dog."  
  
She closed her eyes and smiled bemusedly to herself. Gabriel's lack of pop culture knowledge had always been endearingly humorous to her.  
  
"You going to wear your blue shirt?", she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, "The soft one?"  
  
"Maybe." he considered absently, his eyes still closed.  
  
Buffy scowled prettily and gave a slight shake of her head.  
  
"Wear something else," she suggested, "one of your white ones or something."  
  
"Why?" his eyes opened and he sat up a little, looking down at her in mild, half-hearted indignation, "What's wrong with the blue one? It's my favorite."   
  
She rolled onto her back and smiled, reaching up to caress the outline of his shoulders.  
  
"Mine, too. That's why I plan to wear it to class this morning." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, gently stroking the instep of her foot up along his thigh, "Unless you want me to leave early so I can go home and get something out of my own closet?"  
  
He sighed with a rueful smile and reached across her body, propping himself over her. His gold-on-green eyes were vibrant and alert, fully awake now.  
  
"How much time before you absolutely have to go?" he leaned down, almost completely covering her body with his own, and traced his lips along the curve of her ear.   
  
Buffy gasped pleasantly and her entire body went rigid with delicious tension, her toes curled and digging into the mattress. A natural ability to adapt was one of the high points of being the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son and it was turning out to be pretty good for said Seventh Son's girlfriend, too. He always seemed to know exactly when and how to touch her. She hooked her arms around his neck and favored him with a quick kiss.  
  
"Enough, I guess." She estimated, holding his gaze meaningfully, "As long as we don't try to marathon it. I'm game if you are."  
  
"Let's skip breakfast then and I'll call you a cab." He murmured, sliding his hand along her side, leaving a trail of soft, feathery sensation in its wake, "I want as much time together as we can get."  
  
Giggling with delight, she wove her fingers into his soft, auburn hair and met him in a deep kiss.  
  
***  
  
Parker stalked in a steady circle around his underground lair, wearing a path in the dusty earth floor. His face was tense and his sharp, vampiric features had surfaced in response to his agitation.  
  
"What are you pacing for?" Harmony regarded him from the bed as she flipped absently through a tattered fashion magazine.  
  
"I can't stand it in here." He grumbled, balling his hands into fists as he walked, "Cooped up all day, underground. I need to get out."  
  
"Um, helloo!" Harmony rolled her eyes, "Nobody's stopping you. Go on out and get fried to a crisp for all I care. You know, you're not nearly as fun to be around as Spike was. I don't know why I bothered to turn you."  
  
Parker froze in mid-step and his entire body tensed in annoyance.  
  
"I'm sick of hearing about Spike and I'm sick of hearing you!" he spat angrily.  
  
"Spike was always doing things." She continued, purposely trying to spite him, "He had plans. They usually ended with him getting his butt kicked, but at least he had goals. Not like you."  
  
"Oh, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!" he roared, clapping his hands over his ears to block out the sound of her voice, "You are such a bimbo! I hate you!"  
  
"Well I hate you, too!" she rebutted, stung by his remark.  
  
Parker snarled violently and spun on his heel, turning deeper into the catacombs and leaving her behind. Hopefully, she wouldn't follow him this time. The more time he spent around Harmony, the more he hated her. Undeath was like a curse, trapped with her, but he had no other choice. She was right about one thing, though. He really had no plans or schemes to occupy his time.  
  
As he contemplated his hatred, his mind wandered back to the beginning of this new, torturous existence and then to the reason behind it all. Buffy Summers. That little teaser had been the cause of all of this. If not for her, Parker would still be enjoying the many pleasures of humanity, not the least of which was walking around under full daylight.  
  
He wanted to make her suffer, to pay her back ten-fold for every moment of torment he had gone through over the last few months. A seed germinated in the dark, convoluted recesses of his mind, one that would soon bear evil fruit.   
  
Twisting his hands together in anticipation, Parker smiled. He finally had a plan to work on.  
  
***  
  
Buffy scurried up the aisle of her psychology class and slipped covertly into the empty seat next to Willow. Luckily, neither Professor Walsh or her TA seemed to have noticed her tardy arrival.  
  
"Hey," Willow greeted in a low whisper, "You're late."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy shrugged with a sheepish expression and a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks, "I sorta slept in."  
  
"I like your shirt." the auburn-haired girl noted, "Is it new?"  
  
Buffy smiled and adjusted the loose sleeves, feeling the soft blue material with her fingertips. It was big on her, but not abnormally so.  
  
"Gabriel's." she answered, "I just like to borrow it for the boy-smell."  
  
She pulled the collar up to her face with her thumb and drew in a slow breath, enjoying the familiar scent. Closing her eyes and smiling to herself, she silently replayed her sensuous, early-morning activities in her mind.   
  
A light nudge against her elbow shook her from the unintentional daydream. Willow slipped a sheet of paper out of her note-book and passed it across to her.  
  
"Don't let the Professor catch you dozing off." She warned, "Here. I took double notes so you wouldn't fall behind."  
  
"Oh, great, Will." Buffy smiled appreciatively, accepting the paper and wedging it under the cover of her binder, "You're the best. The last thing I need this semester is Professor Walsh or Riley breathing down my neck."  
  
Riley shuffled absently through a collection of papers while Professor Walsh continued on with her lecture. Furtively, he peered at Buffy over the top of an upright page, noting how bright and cheerful she looked this morning.  
  
Silently, he cursed himself for being distracted. Girls were the last thing he should have been thinking about at the moment. After his unfortunate encounter with the auburn-haired, vampire-slaying vigilante on Halloween, Riley had been in pretty deep with the Initiative's upper echelon. The vigilante had been at his mercy, an easy capture, but he had chosen to let him go in favor of assisting his fellow agents. The Professor had not been pleased and she had implied that he might very well have done serious damage to his career. Her attitude toward him had become professionally cold in the last few months, almost distasteful.  
  
In an effort to redeem himself, he had tracked down the errant Hostile Seventeen last night and brought him back to the compound, thereby tying up an embarrassing loose end. He hoped the achievement would regain him some small measure of the Professor's favor, but it appeared to be unlikely. His future looked dim. Maybe it was time for him to let it go and assume the normal life of any other young man his age. What he would do, he could only guess. The military life was all he had ever known.  
  
Professor Walsh stopped abruptly in mid-speech and checked a small beeper at her waist. Riley immediately perked up. Unbeknownst to most, the device was a communications link to the Initiative central command.  
  
"I'll be back in a minute, class." She informed the students with a perfunctory wave of her hand then turned directly toward him, "Riley, a moment in the hallway, please?"  
  
Riley snapped to attention and set his paperwork aside, dutifully following the Professor out into the corridor. The instant the door closed behind them, she fixed him with a look of deadly earnest.  
  
"That was a five-one-three I just received." She informed him curtly, "And you know what that means."  
  
Riley swallowed anxiously. The code referred to an alert of extreme urgency. The last number was a measure of the rank required to answer the call, three being the highest non-officer rank. Riley's rank. And the only outstanding mission of such importance was the one which had almost cost him his commission.  
  
"They've found him, Riley." She smiled, her satisfaction seeming to push through the sternness she had been subjecting him to lately, "And I'm going to give you another chance."  
  
Riley's heart soared. Finally, he could undo the damage that had been done to his career and, more importantly, what had been done to the trust that Professor Walsh had once had in him.  
  
"I can be ready in five minutes, Professor." He promised brightly, his nerves humming with excitement.  
  
"Good." She nodded, the slight trace of warmth disappearing from her voice, "I won't tolerate another disappointment."  
  
With a short nod and salute, Riley bolted in the direction of the closest access to the underground complex.  
  
***  
  
Giles scratched his head in puzzlement and pushed again on the wire connected to the back of the slide projector. The end wouldn't fit correctly, but he was determined to make it stay. Kneeling forward on the hardwood floor, he scrutinized the uncooperative device.  
  
"Do you want me to take a look at that, Uncle?" Gabriel suggested from his seat on the couch.  
  
"No, no." Rupert refused, "I'm quite all right. Just need to give it a little push."  
  
He gave the end a frustrated shove and the connector bent sharply.  
  
"Damn!" he swore, adjusting his glasses and throwing the wire to the floor in annoyance, "Bloody foreign workmanship!"  
  
Gabriel watched him with mild amusement and sat up.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want me to set it up?" he offered again, wondering bemusedly how long it would take for the man to accept defeat.  
  
"It's just a simple slide projector!" he complained, attempting to unbend the connection with a small pair of needle-nose pliers, "I'll be damned before it gets the best of me."  
  
A short knock sounded at the front door and Gabriel cocked his head curiously.  
  
"Who could that be?" he wondered.  
  
Fed up with tinkering, Rupert slipped the pliers into his pocket and stood up.  
  
"Never mind. I'll answer it." He grumbled, "You just see what you can do with this silly contraption."  
  
Gabriel smiled and slipped off the couch, pleased that Rupert had found a way to ask for his help without seeming to. The older man sometimes displayed a wide streak of the Giles family stubbornness, something Gabriel himself possessed in abundance, he had been told.  
  
As Rupert reached for the knob, the door burst open and three khaki-clad soldiers rushed in, shoving him through the archway and onto the floor. Training stun blasters on Gabriel, the trio slowed to a steady, predatory advance.  
  
Instinctively, Gabriel dove into a roll and came up on his feet before the lead commando, hands ready. Focusing his Second Sight for an instant, he recognized the powder-blue sparkling halo of the leader's aura. Months ago, Gabriel had clashed with a group of Initiative soldiers who had orders to capture him. He had escaped and no one had seen evidence of them again since. Now it seemed they had returned to finish what they had started.  
  
"I thought we already settled this." Gabriel growled at the leader, inching closer to his uncle and helping the man to his feet with one hand.  
  
"You knew I'd eventually find you." The leader confidently leveled his stun-gun at him while his two companions spread out on either side.  
  
Gabriel tightened his fists and lowered his body, bending his knees slightly into springy readiness.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, but don't think I won't." he warned, mentally calculating his chances of getting to the leader without getting shot by the others.  
  
Both subordinates lifted their guns to their shoulders and took aim, triangulating with Gabriel in the middle.  
  
"You're not getting away this time." The leader assured him, powering up his own blaster.  
  
Gabriel edged over to stand protectively in front of his uncle. He had fought these three before and won, but he had more than himself to worry about this time.   
  
"Get back, Rupert." He advised.  
  
The former Watcher shook his head in refusal and stood his ground, the small set of pliers held tightly in his hand.  
  
One of the subordinate soldiers stepped forward and gestured with his gun.  
  
"Listen to him, old man." He agreed, "This doesn't have anything to do with you."   
  
Rupert deliberately stepped around his nephew and squared off fearlessly with the young soldier. With a resigned shrug, the commando took aim and prepared to fire.  
  
Gabriel lunged for the gun and knocked it aside, felling the soldier with a quick chop to the throat. He grabbed the other subordinate and threw him over his hip, whirling to keep his uncle safely behind him.  
  
"Come on!" he shouted, pulling the man along with him toward the front door.  
  
Rupert followed haltingly and the lead commando rushed to intercept. Diving into a roll, he fired an electrical blast into Gabriel's chest.  
  
Tendrils of blue-white energy raced across the Seventh Son's body and his every nerve ending lit up with absolute agony. With a scream of agony, he hit the floor in a hea, his muscles snapping and convulsing spastically. He tried to rise again, but the effort was too much to ask from a body that had been overloaded with pain. Slumping against the floor, he lost consciousness.  
  
"No!" Giles dove for one of the lesser commandos with pliers in hand and immediately his companion whirled and fired, point-blank.   
  
Time slowed to a crawl as the bolt slammed into the center of Rupert's spine and threw him against the wall with brutal force. Twitching and breathless with pain, he crumpled slowly to the floor and lay still. The pliers slipped from his nerveless fingers and hit the floor with a dull clatter.  
  
The leader stood frozen, staring at the man's unmoving body.  
  
"Forrest, you dampened the charge, right?" he asked quietly.  
  
"No time." Forrest shrugged, kneeling down and pulling Gabriel's limp arms up behind his back, "One more second and he could have put out Graham's eye or something."  
  
Riley continued to stare in worry and swallowed tensely.  
  
"I think he's really hurt."  
  
Forrest shook his head and cinched a pair of steel handcuffs around Gabriel's wrists.  
  
"He'll be fine. He just has to sleep it off." He looked skeptically over his shoulder to Riley with a touch of annoyance, "Are you going to help out here or what? You're not the only one the Professor came down on after last time, you know."  
  
"Right." Riley nodded slowly, tearing his eyes away from the unconscious older man, "Graham, collect anything that looks important then set up a standard red herring cover. We'll meet you back at base."  
  
Squatting down, he helped Forrest gather the vigilante's limp form up and readied him for transport. As they efficiently slipped out the front door with the young man between them, Riley cast one last worried look to the man Forrest had shot.  
  
***  
  
Buffy rushed down the hospital corridor, her heart pounding a mile a minute. Joyce trailed close behind her, equally disturbed. They had gotten the call from Xander less than twenty minutes ago, but since then, every second had seemed like an hour.  
  
She found him with Anya, Willow and Tara, all gathered tensely outside one of the rooms.  
  
"Where is he? What happened? Is he alright?" she asked quickly, skidding to a stop and grabbing Xander by the arms.  
  
"I don't know." Xander shook his head sadly, "They won't let anyone in to see him."  
  
Willow and Tara stood up from the plain, plastic chairs lined against the wall and approached her supportively. Tension twisted in Buffy's stomach as she noted the sympathetic expressions on their faces. People didn't show that kind of sympathy unless something really bad had happened.  
  
"What happened, Xander?" she demanded worriedly.  
  
"I don't know." Xander shrugged helplessly, "Gabriel never showed up for the barbecue, so I went over to his place to see what was up and I found Giles all curled up on the floor."  
  
Fear shot through her with startling clarity. Giles was hurt, bad enough to be in the hospital with no explanation for what had happened to him.  
  
"Where's Gabriel?" she asked instinctively, knowing how the news must have been tearing him apart inside. Her own feelings she could put aside for now, but Gabriel had lost much in the past year and she worried how this newest tragedy would affect him.  
  
"Um, that's something else I haven't mentioned." Xander hedged uncomfortably.  
  
"What?" she gripped his wrist tightly in alarm, "What is it, Xander?"  
  
"Before Giles passed out, he said something to me." He regarded her with genuine sorrow in his eyes, "He said 'They have him.'"  
  
Buffy staggered back, reeling form the stunning revelation. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest and darkness seemed to be creeping into her vision from all sides. Her whole world was falling apart, sundered in the span of a single afternoon.  
  
Joyce took her daughter by the shoulders and guided her to one of the chairs.  
  
"Here, sit, honey." She suggested soothingly, easing her down.  
  
The door to Giles' room opened and a tall, dark-haired nurse came out, holding a tidy clipboard under her arm. She paused to look over the assembled group.  
  
"Are any of you family?" she asked steadily.  
  
"I am." Buffy rose sharply to her feet without a moment's hesitation.  
  
The nurse eased the door open a fraction and gestured for her to step inside.  
  
"I can only give you a minute." She advised, "We managed to stabilize him, but he'll still need a lot of rest."  
  
With a perfunctory nod, Buffy squeezed past her and rushed immediately to Giles' bedside. He lay as still as a statue with the pristine white bedsheets tucked under his arms. Clear, plastic tubes had been fed into his mouth and nose and a small whirring machine forced air into his lungs at regular intervals. Bags of clear liquid hung over him, dripping fluid into intravenous needles jutting out of the backs of his hands. He looked so pale and old under the harsh fluorescent light, the slight rising and falling of his chest the only indication that he was alive at all.  
  
"There were some complications when they brought him in." the nurse reported solemnly, "He's suffered severe spinal trauma and it was quite a while before your friend found him. He's been in a coma ever since. There wasn't really much we could do."  
  
Gripping Giles' cold, still hand in both of her own, Buffy looked to the nurse.  
  
"What are you trying to say?" she swallowed nervously, praying to God that she wasn't going to hear the answer she was expecting.  
  
"I'm afraid his spinal cord has been severed in the thoracic area." The woman replied grimly, "If your father wakes up, he's going to be paralyzed."  
  
The fear inside Buffy's heart solidified into a sharp, heavy pit of pain. Blinding tears welled up in her eyes and she sank forward, laying her head down on Giles chest and crying softly as she squeezed his hand tightly in hers.  
  
"I'm sorry." The nurse sympathized, laying a consoling hand on her shoulder, "I'll leave you alone here for as long as you need."  
  
Buffy hardly noticed as the woman left the room. She just lay there, crying and holding Giles to her as if she was afraid he might slip away at any moment. No one could change what had happened. Her mentor, the man who had been like the father that the nurse had assumed he was, had been taken away from her. Even if he ever did come back to her, he would be forever changed. And to make matters worse, the person she wanted to turn to most was gone too, apparently captured by the same monsters who had wounded Giles.  
  
Shivering uncontrollably, she slowly straightened and wiped the tears from her face, trying to bring herself back under control. She didn't know how long she had been there, but she couldn't afford to waste any more time. Without Giles or Gabriel to support her, she felt lost, utterly powerless to help them. She couldn't handle this alone.  
  
Lifting the receiver from the bedside telephone, she followed the instructions on the faceplate for making an outside call. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number and waited tensely for the phone on the other end to ring.  
  
***  
  
Angel carefully stretched out his hand and positioned an unsharpened pencil over a meticulously laid pile of similar pencils. Slowly, cautiously, he lowered it, adding yet another layer to the tiny structure he had erected over the past hour.  
  
One of the pencils on the bottom shifted ever so slightly and the entire construct crumbled, spilling pencils across his desk with a light, wooden clatter.  
  
"Damn!" he hissed, slumping back into his chair and carelessly tossing the last pencil into the pile.  
  
Agitated, he stood up and paced into the main part of the office where Cordelia sat behind her computer, absently painting her nails.  
  
"Anything?" he asked expectantly.  
  
"Did you hear the phone ring?" she responded pointedly, blowing softly across her fingertips.  
  
He sat down across from her and leaned forward, knitting his fingers together.  
  
"No visions?" he pressed hopefully, his brow wrinkled.  
  
"You didn't hear me screaming in agony either, right?" she raised her eyebrows with a tolerant sigh, "Nope, no visions, thank God."  
  
Angel rose sharply to his feet again and started to pace again. Calling the past week slow would have been an understatement. For no apparent reason, demon activity had dropped off to almost nothing, leaving Angel completely stir crazy from inactivity.  
  
"Look at it this way." Cordelia suggested, inspecting her fingernails under the direct light of her desktop lamp, "Maybe the 'Powers That Be' are just giving you a vacation. People take those, you know."  
  
"Maybe." He agreed with an uncertain scowl. He doubted the Powers had enough personal regard for him to hold back with their demands so as not to inundate him, but it did seem as if they had been taking it easy on him this past week.  
  
The phone rang and Angel leaped for it, snatching the receiver out from under Cordelia's reaching hand.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
His posture changed and immediately became rigid and serious, reflecting the deep intensity that showed in his face.  
  
"Slow down. What happened?" He directed calmly, folding one arm tightly over his chest and tucking the hand under his opposite arm.  
  
Cordelia lifted her head curiously and attempted to discern what was happening.   
  
"How bad is he?" Angel continued after a pause, his brow furrowing grimly, "I see. I'll leave right away."  
  
As he placed the phone back in its cradle, Cordelia noted a slight tremble in his fingers.  
  
"So?" she waited impatiently for him to answer, "What is it? Are we back on the demon hunting clock again?"  
  
He didn't answer right away, tightening his lips in troubled thought, the features of his face having become as hard and unreadable as stone. He went straight for the elevator with short, agitated steps and hit the button.  
  
"Call Wesley, then get your things together." He told her over his shoulder, "We're going back to Sunnydale."  
  
***  
  
END OF PART 01  
  
***  
  
Gabriel stirred and sighed tiredly, his eyes still closed. Every muscle in his body ached distantly, like a mild bruising. Instinctively, he reached for Buffy, knowing the warm softness of her body to be ample cure for such pains.  
  
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." a familiar, sarcastic male voice commented, "'Bout time you were getting' up."  
  
Gabriel cracked his eyes open and squinted groggily. He wasn't in his own bed as he had assumed and Buffy was nowhere to be found. Instead he had awakened in a plain white cubical cell with a flat palette for a bed and a clear Plexiglas wall facing the corridor instead of bars.  
  
The voice had originated in the cell directly across from him and come through a tiny audio device on the wall. Instantly, he recognized the person who had spoken and frowned with dismay.  
  
"Spike." He grumbled darkly, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the palette.  
  
The vampire was far from being Gabriel's favorite person in the world. Much had passed between the two in recent years and the feeling was more than mutual.  
  
Spike lifted a straight finger to cross his lips and smirked bitterly.  
  
"Shhh." He whispered conspiratorially, "Around here they call me Hostile Seventeen. Got a name for you too, you big poof. They been callin' you 'The Vigilante', like you're the Lone Ranger or somethin'."  
  
Gabriel slowly stood up and approached the Plexiglas wall, scanning the edges to see how well it was anchored. No visible bolts, more than likely it was fitted directly into the wall, which meant there wasn't much chance of him knocking it down. Maybe with enough force, though, he could break it.  
  
Setting his feet, he prepared to pour every ounce of strength he had into a side kick.  
  
"I wouldn't try that." Spike advised knowingly.  
  
Gabriel ignored the vampire and focused his inner strength, his muscles tense and ready. Driving forward, he brought his rear foot around with incredible speed and slammed it into the clear barrier. Instantly, hot, sharp tongues of electricity rushed over his body as thousands of volts shot through him. He flew back and hit the floor with a pained groan, his muscles twitching from the aftershock.  
  
"Don't say I didn't warn you." Spike snickered cruelly, "These Initiative blokes know what they're doing when it comes to building cages. You, my friend, are a bug in a bell jar."  
  
Lips tight, Gabriel shook his head to clear it and pushed himself up off the floor. The Initiative. He remembered now. They had come for him and kidnapped him from his own home in broad daylight. He never imagined they would become so bold.  
  
Footsteps approached from down the corridor and a khaki-clad soldier carrying an open cardboard box stepped into view. Sandy-haired and blue-eyed, Gabriel didn't know his name, but he remembered him from a brief clash at a Halloween bash months ago. He was also the one who had led the assault on his apartment.  
  
"How are you feeling?" The soldier asked in a friendly tone, setting the box down on the floor.  
  
Folding his arms tightly across his chest, Gabriel leaned with his back against the rear wall, regarding the young man stonily.  
  
"Like any guy who's been kidnapped, imprisoned and subjected to thousands of volts of electricity." He responded sourly, "The accommodations suck, not to mention the neighbors."  
  
Across the corridor, Spike shot him a dark glare, his lip curled in anger. The soldier looked over his shoulder and eyed the vampire skeptically.  
  
"You mean Hostile Seventeen?" he raised his eyebrows, "Don't let him bother you. He's got an electromagnetic chip tied into his nervous system that keeps him from attacking humans. He's crafty, but other than his loud mouth, he's harmless."  
  
Spike growled and shifted into a threatening posture.  
  
"You get this thing out of my head and I'll show you harmless."  
  
The soldier paid him no heed and turned his attention back to Gabriel.  
  
"We've been going through your things." He revealed, indicating the box, "You're a mysterious guy. Police don't have your fingerprints on file, there's not even a lease on that apartment to get your name from. So who are you?"  
  
Gabriel held the other young man's gaze in cold silence, distaste obvious in his expression. The sandy-haired soldier sighed resignedly in response and slipped his hands into his pockets.  
  
"My name's Riley." He offered as an introduction, "Riley Finn."  
  
Gabriel continued to stare piercingly at him, refusing to respond. Being a prisoner hardly appealed to him and he was in no mood to assist his captors in any way, no matter how small.  
  
"Still no answer, huh?" Riley sighed again, "I can see you're not going to make this easy. Maybe we should move on to the box then."  
  
He squatted down and reached into the box, lifting a small, silvered picture frame out and holding it up for Gabriel to see. It was a photo of Buffy he had of her from the summer which had, up until just recently, resided on his night table.   
  
"Who's this?" Riley asked, hesitating for a moment and seeming oddly uncomfortable, "Girlfriend?"  
  
Gabriel purposely hid the surge of anger that rushed through him when he saw that they had taken the photo. The picture was one of his most treasured possessions, but any connection to Buffy he betrayed would only place her in danger. Dropping his eyes for the first time since the questioning began, he shrugged non-committally.  
  
"Don't ask me." He answered blandly, "Picture just came with the frame."  
  
"I see." Riley noted with a frown, taking another framed picture out of the box.  
  
Gabriel recognized it instantly, before it was even shown to him. Years ago, his eldest brother had taken a picture of him in Thailand and signed it before they had parted ways. Raphael was dead now and the picture was one of the few things Gabriel had to remember him by. Again, he forced his outrage under control.  
  
"Who's Raphael?" the soldier queried, reading the name off the dedication across the bottom of the photo.  
  
"Don't know." Gabriel replied with an absent shrug, "That one came with the frame, too."  
  
Riley sighed roughly in frustration and dropped both pictures back into the box, rising swiftly to his feet.  
  
"You know, things will go a lot easier for you around here if you cooperate." He advised gravely, his previous open demeanor now colored by anger.  
  
Gabriel remained undaunted, his own anger and outrage fueling his instinctive obstinate reaction.   
  
"I'll take my chances."   
  
Turning his back on Riley, he sank down to his knees and closed his eyes, ignoring him. For whatever reason they had imprisoned him, he was determined not to give them what they wanted. If he had anything to say about it, capturing him would be the easy part.  
  
The soldier watched him impassively for long minutes as Gabriel waited silently for him to leave. Without another word, Riley picked up the box with Gabriel's belongings and left the containment cell area.  
  
***  
  
Angel approached the bottom of the stairs to Gabriel's apartment with Cordelia and Wesley close behind. Angel and the Seventh Son had parted on agreeable terms months ago and the vampire had never been quite sure where he had gone after that. Now he was.  
  
They had driven all day to meet Buffy outside the Sunnydale hospital and it had been well past dusk by the time she had filled them in on the situation.   
  
Giles paralyzed and Gabriel captured, both in the same unexplained attack by an unidentified enemy.   
  
When she had finished her story, Buffy hadn't looked well, as if telling the tale had reminded her again of every freshly painful detail. She would always be beautiful to him no matter what condition she was in, but what he saw worried him. She was frightened and more than a little upset by what had happened to Giles, perhaps even more by what had happened to Gabriel. The sudden loss had shaken her deeply.   
  
Instinctively, Angel had wanted to comfort her, but he felt oddly out of place on Sunnydale soil. Almost a year had passed since he had last set foot in the town and much had changed. Shooting a furtive, apprehensive glance toward Buffy, he wondered just how much.  
  
She rushed ahead of him up the stairs, her movements sharp and tense, the same as they had been since he had arrived. He quietly followed with Cordelia and Wesley behind him and Xander taking up the rear.  
  
Buffy shoved the door open and led Angel inside, waiting impatiently for the others to catch up. One by one they entered, somberly witnessing the scene of the crime. When Xander crossed through the doorway, she stopped him.  
  
"Where did you find him?" she asked, fidgeting uncomfortably in the openness of the main room.  
  
"Over there." Xander pointed, "Against the wall."  
  
Buffy bit her lower lip and hugged herself tightly, staring at the center of the room. Even after all this time, Angel could read her unspoken thoughts as easily as if they were his own. She was mentally reconstructing what must have happened, he knew, her imagination adding to the worry that already weighed heavily on her.  
  
Angel scanned the apartment carefully with his detective's eye, taking note of everything he saw. It wasn't lavishly furnished, but the walls were decorated with various exotic weapons and foreign trinkets, much like his own place. A broken slide projector lay discarded in the middle of the floor and an endtable had been overturned. Signs of a struggle, but not a very large one.  
  
He frowned in thought and studied the disheveled state of the room with dissatisfaction. The destruction seemed too contained, too deliberate. It didn't make sense to him. He found it hard to believe that Gabriel would have allowed himself to be taken without a serious fight, particularly after what had happened to his uncle. The invaders must have been trying to cover something.  
  
"Some things are missing." Buffy noted quietly.  
  
"Where?" Angel asked.  
  
"Here." She crossed the room quickly and showed him a tiny depression in the floor where something heavy and narrow must have once stood.   
  
"Yeah," Xander agreed, going to the window sill, "And there's stuff missing here, too."  
  
Angel stroked his chin and nodded in grim thought. Selected missing items and an attempt to cover the theft, but not the kidnapping. It didn't make sense. And why capture Gabriel and leave Giles behind?   
  
In another part of the room, Cordelia folded her arms together and curiously wandered around, inspecting the place without inhibition. Not nearly as nice as her apartment back in LA, but acceptable, even impressive in small ways.  
  
Wesley crouched down on the floor next to her, distracted as he busily studied a painted wood carving with intense interest.  
  
"Do you have any idea what this statue is?" he asked in wonder.  
  
"Looks like a really bad ventriloquist dummy." she commented distastefully.  
  
"It's a representation of the Thai god of family." He marveled, oblivious to her disinterest, "Quite rare."  
  
Cordelia gave a beleaguered sigh and stretched tiredly.  
  
"I can't believe Angel packed up shop and dragged us all the way back to Sunnydale just because Buffy called." She complained, "He didn't even spring for a decent hotel! At least we're still on payroll."  
  
"We do all owe Giles a certain debt of gratitude." He reminded her, straightening and eyeing an array of tiny bones connected with a shiny black cord that hung on the wall, "And I must admit, I'm rather curious to see this nephew of his firsthand. There've been quite a number of impressive stories bandied about the Council over the years."  
  
"Oh yeah, he's a real shining star." She snorted blandly, "And you're assuming we're going to find him."  
  
While Cordelia wouldn't be able to truthfully say that she hadn't found the Seventh Son attractive at first, his shiny veneer had quickly worn off. For a so-called Chosen One, he hadn't been much fun. She'd hardly taken note when he had disappeared from LA.  
  
She wandered into the bedroom, craning her neck and admiring the décor. Predominantly navy blue, a plush bed sat in the center of one wall with a small bureau at its foot. Thick drapery diffused streetlight from the window into a warm ambiance that was gloomy, yet comfortable.  
  
"I'll say one thing, his place does have its own look. Kind of reminds me of the office." She paused, noting a small, stuffed pig at the foot of the bed and her eyes warmed with intrigue.  
  
"Looks like Gabriel and Angel share more than a similar taste in decorating style." She clutched Wesley's arm to get his attention and pointed to the toy, her eyebrows raised, "I'm guessing one thing they don't share is that pesky gypsy curse. I wonder if she knows how young he is."  
  
Wesley cleared his throat nervously and looked over his shoulder back into the main room to where Angel stood talking to Buffy and Xander.  
  
"You don't suppose he knows, do you?" he asked worriedly in a conspiratorial whisper.  
  
Cordelia shrugged, unbothered.  
  
"Don't worry. Angel and Gabriel already tried to rip each other apart over Buffy long ago." She explained, "It's old news."  
  
Circling around the bed, she went to the bureau. The items on top were neatly arranged in organized rows. With a smile that confirmed her earlier suspicion, she noted a number of make-up cases and other female paraphernalia in the mix.   
  
Eagerly, she pulled open the top drawer for a closer inspection.  
  
"Cordelia!" Wesley whispered sharply, rushing up behind her in shock, "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"We're private investigators." She explained with a mischievous smile, rifling through the neatly folded clothes, "I'm investigating."  
  
Ignoring his further protests, she reached deep and found a something wedged in the back. Pulling it out, she held up a folded and creased Supergirl costume of about Buffy's size in front of her.  
  
"Wow, kinky." She observed wryly, impressed, "No wonder Angel still thinks of her after all this time."  
  
"Give me that!" Wesley snatched the garment out of her hands and hastily stuffed it back in the drawer before closing it, "This is something that would be better left for Buffy to do. Mucking around ourselves won't accomplish anything."  
  
"Sure it will." Cordy cocked her head slightly, "I won't be bored anymore."  
  
Taking her by the wrist, he pulled her back through the doorway to the main room.   
  
Angel stood still as a statue with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his long, dark coat while Buffy continued to pace agitatedly around the room. Watching both of them with a curiously intense worry, Xander sat in a plush gray lounging chair that had been turned to face the door.  
  
Angel lifted his head sharply as Wesley and Cordelia entered the room.  
  
"Not much to go on here." He stated, tilting his head toward Buffy, "We're going to hit the patrol trail, maybe check in at Willy's, see what we can dig up."  
  
Buffy nodded shortly and headed straight out the door, seeming more tense than ever. As Angel turned to follow, Cordelia smoothly cut him off.  
  
"You sure this is a good idea, the two of you . . .?" she questioned, regarding him seriously, "Remember, 'perfect happiness'?"  
  
Angel's expression hardened in annoyance.  
  
"We'll be fine." He grumbled, squeezing past her to follow Buffy out the door and down the stairs.  
  
Vampire and Slayer hit the old, familiar patrol trails together as if it had only been yesterday when they had fought the darkness side by side. After so many months travelling the busy streets and dark sewers of LA, Angel found it refreshing to be in a small town again.  
  
In contrast, Buffy's tension seemed to have increased tenfold the instant they were alone together. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead as she walked, her legs moving with driven energy.  
  
Obviously, Angel wasn't the only one who found the impromptu reunion awkward. He silently kept pace with her, sensing that she would speak her mind when she felt ready.  
  
She turned sharply and led him into an empty storm drain that had never been part of their old patrol, nervously turning Mister Pointy over in her hands.  
  
"You changed the routine." He noted aloud in an attempt to break the tension as he caught up and walked beside her.  
  
"Yeah." She agreed with a weak smile, "Things have been . . . different since you left."  
  
She was talking about more than her patrol routes, he knew, and whatever it was played at the heart of her discomfort. They walked in silence for another little while and he was glad they never came across any vampires or demons. Buffy was so distracted that she would probably have wandered into a whole nest without realizing it.  
  
"I'm sorry I dragged you all the way out here." She blurted suddenly, "I just didn't know who else to turn to."  
  
"It's alright." He smiled, "Giles is my friend, too. And you know I'm always here for you if you need me."  
  
She stopped abruptly and smiled appreciatively at his sentiment, twisting her hands together in agitation.  
  
"Look, there's something you should know about me and Gabriel." She moistened her lips and cleared her throat with a nervous swallow, "Since he came back to Sunnydale, we've been close. Very close."  
  
A distant ache throbbed in Angel's chest. He was hardly surprised, though. Not long after he had disappeared from Sunnydale, Gabriel had resurfaced in LA and the two of them had worked out some of their differences regarding Buffy. Angel had gotten the distinct impression that the young man had been looking for some kind of acceptance from him, unspoken permission perhaps for what he would later do. Namely, return to Sunnydale and pursue Buffy romantically.   
  
Angel refused to let personal feelings color his judgement. After their last encounter he felt that the young man deserved a certain measure of his respect. That, and the fact that Angel owed Giles a personal debt that he doubted he would ever be able to repay. Even if it hadn't been Buffy who had called, he would have come to help.   
  
"I kind of had a feeling." He told her in a deliberately level voice, quelling the twinge in his heart.  
  
"You did?" she chirped, surprised.  
  
Angel nodded softly. Her strange behavior since his arrival had raised his suspicions, but it had been his keen sense of smell that had clinched it for him.  
  
"You're wearing his shirt." He pointed out plainly.  
  
She ducked her head, embarrassed, smoothing the soft, blue fabric against her sides self-consciously.  
  
"Oh, right." She lifted her head and looked him earnestly in the face, "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to rub your nose in it or anything. I just didn't want you to think I was trying to hide something from you."  
  
Angel nodded slightly in understanding, realizing how awkward she must have felt. He would love her always, without question, without regret, but fate had given him another path to follow and a penance to pay. Part of that penance was to be separated from her for the sake of the world. The choice to leave her had been the most difficult decision in his life, but he knew it had been for the best.   
  
"I didn't leave for LA so you could pine away for me for the rest of your life, Buffy. It might have been good for my ego, but that's not what I wanted." He took her gently by the shoulders and held her at arms length, gazing meaningfully into her eyes, "I'm glad that you've got a life with someone. And if it had to be someone else . . . well, you could have done worse, I guess."  
  
"Thank you." She smiled, a measure of the great weight on her shoulders lifting as she did so, and placed her hands over the backs of his.   
  
The warmth of her touch seeped into his fingers, a reminder of the past that they had once shared. The ache in his chest tightened again. His fear of repeating past mistakes had kept him at a cold distance from women, his guilt like an impenetrable wall surrounding him, but Buffy had always been able to slip through that wall and no distance could destroy the familiarity he felt with her. Things were different now, however, for both of them. They had to be. Forcing himself to step back, he broke the soft contact.  
  
She withdrew her hands and slipped them into her pockets.  
  
"Thank you." She repeated with a soft smile, "For coming all the way here, for everything. I really don't think I could have handled this on my own."  
  
"Buffy!" a nearby voice called out sharply.  
  
Her head snapped up and Angel spun around. A young, dark-haired man strolled casually up the tunnel toward them one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other dangling by his side. It took Buffy a moment, but she recognized him once he was close enough.  
  
"Parker?" she raised her eyebrows, surprised, "What are you doing here?"  
  
No one had seen or heard from Parker Abrams in almost five months; most people assumed he had dropped out of college and gone home, never to return. After the humiliating way he had tried to use her after she and Gabriel had broken up, Buffy wished that he had.  
  
He stopped about ten feet away from her and leaned casually against the tunnel wall.  
  
"Out for a stroll." He answered, adjusting the hand that was in his pocket.   
  
"Around the sewer?" she queried dubiously, taking a step forward then stopping when she noted someone else trailing along behind him, a girl with blonde hair and a careless, bouncy walk.   
  
A warning chill crawled up the back of Buffy's neck as she recognized the girl and a sympathetic sadness rose within her. Now she understood where Parker had been all this time.  
  
"With Harmony." She shook her head regretfully, "Oh, Parker, I'm sorry."  
  
Parker's lips twitched and he sneered angrily.  
  
"You SHOULD feel sorry." He snarled, his face shifting into a demonic mask, "This is all your fault."  
  
Two more vampires appeared out of the darkness behind him, loyally flanking both him and Harmony.  
  
Drawing his hand out of his pocket, Parker revealed a long, shining knife with a forward-curving blade. He took one step forward before Angel cut him off, standing directly in his path.  
  
"Don't even think about it." Angel warned.  
  
Parker ignored him, looking around him to Buffy.  
  
"New guy?" he bared his teeth, "At least this one looks tougher than the last one."  
  
"What?" he eyes locked on him with a sudden fire and she burst forward, pushing Angel aside and grabbing Parker by the collar of his coat.  
  
"What did you do to Gabriel?!" she demanded shrilly, bashing him back against the concrete wall.  
  
Parker struggled against her steely strength for a moment and glared hatefully down at her.  
  
"Same thing I'm going to do to you, bitch!"   
  
Bringing his hand up swiftly, he sliced deeply into her upper arm with the knife. Buffy jerked back, but paid the wound little heed, raising her foot and slamming her heel into Parker's ribs.  
  
As he hissed in pain and crumpled, Harmony moved to go to his aid. Angel stepped in front of her and shook his head gravely in warning, his own vampiric face manifested. Confronted by his impressive stature, she stopped short.  
  
Shrinking in a little on herself, she mustered her most winsome expression.  
  
"You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" she asked meekly.  
  
"Not usually." He answered with a shrug, then smashed a hard punch across the side of her head, "But you're not just a girl anymore."  
  
Harmony spun almost completely around and fell to the ground on her hands and knees.  
  
"Get him!" she shrieked to her minions in frustration.  
  
The two vampires surrounded Angel, leering and hungry for battle. He met them confidently, a wooden stake readied in his hand.  
  
He had faced greater threats than a pair of undisciplined vampires before. He wasn't worried for himself, but fighting them would prevent him from going to Buffy's aid. Fortunately, she seemed to have things on her end well in hand.  
  
Buffy straddled Parker, pinning him to the damp ground by the throat with blood running freely down her arm as she repeatedly raised her other arm and cracked her fist into his face.  
  
"Where is he?!" she demanded, lifting his head up and pounding hard knuckles into his jaw again, "Tell me!"  
  
Parker's head snapped back against the floor and lolled dazedly to the side. Lifting it again, he smiled a challenge up at her.  
  
"You'll never find him." He hissed proudly, reaching out with the tip of his tongue to taste a drop of her blood that had landed on his chin, "His blood's almost as good as yours."  
  
Buffy's face suffused with rage and she dragged the vampire to his feet, throwing him into the wall as if he weighed almost nothing.  
  
"You bastard!" she cried, tears forming at the corners of her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, "Tell me what you did to him or I swear I'll rip you apart piece by piece! Tell me now!!"  
  
She gripped his coat and slammed him roughly off the wall again, backhanding him sharply in frustration when he refused to answer. Clamping both hands around his throat, she crushed him against the concrete, her eyes flaring with livid rage.   
  
Parker's petty, selfish cruelty had magnified to homicidal proportions when he had become a vampire. If Gabriel was his prisoner, she could only fearfully imagine what torments he might have already been subjected to.  
  
"Your life doesn't mean anything to me, Parker." She growled, sniffing back hot tears, "His means everything. Tell me what you did to him!"  
  
"This isn't about him!" Parker choked, clamping his hand around her wounded arm and squeezing, "This is about what you did to ME!"  
  
Her brain lit up with absolute agony and she screamed, her hands spasming and loosing their grip on him. She dropped weakly to her knees before him, unable to stand. Teeth bared, he loomed threateningly over her with his reclaimed knife in hand, a glint of light glaring off the blade.   
  
Stubbornly, she lifted her head and met his hate-crazed gaze. The pain in her arm was intense, blurring her vision and stealing her breath away, but she refused to show fear.   
  
Dissatisfied with her willful resistance, he gave her arm a savage jerk and smiled cruelly when she cried out again. Her head dropped back weakly and he raised his weapon high, preparing to vent the force of his vengeance on her tender, exposed throat.  
  
A strong hand seized his wrist and held it with unearthly strength, squeezing the bones in a crushing grip.  
  
"What the hell?" Parker scowled.  
  
Angel smashed a sharp elbow into Parker's face, dropping him and knocking the knife from his grasp.   
  
With nothing to support her, Buffy slumped weakly to the floor while Parker scrambled back across the floor, clutching his swollen jaw. Angel held one of his vampire opponents with its arm twisted up behind its back and had the other laying unconscious at his feet. Hauling Harmony up by the scruff of her neck with his free hand, he shoved her and her companion at Parker. The pair stumbled and fell on top of him in a heap and Parker hissed in annoyance. Shoving Harmony roughly away from him, he jumped to his feet.  
  
Angel smoothly intercepted him, putting Buffy safely behind him.  
  
"You've got one chance to get out of here." he warned, taking a threatening step forward, "Take it."  
  
The conscious minion scrambled to his feet and fled down the tunnel dragging the other one with it, but Harmony hesitated to rise as Parker stood his ground, chest puffed and chin jutted with pride. He held Angel's steady gaze in challenge, shifting unconsciously on the spot. Angel remained as still as stone, his yellow eyes boring through Parker's until the smaller vampire faltered and dropped his gaze.  
  
Grabbing Harmony by the arm, Parker violently yanked her back to her feet, eliciting a whine of protest.  
  
"Come on." He grumbled, turning away and shooting one last dark look in Angel's direction, "We're out of here."  
  
Angel glared piercingly at the pair as they he slipped into a dark side tunnel and quickly retreated into the gloom. The instant they were gone, he immediately crouched and lifted Buffy carefully into his arms. Her arm looked pretty bad, slick with blood. While the majority of the bleeding seemed to have subsided, he knew she would need medical attention.  
  
"We have to stop them." she insisted, gasping in pain as she struggled free and dropped feet-first to the ground, holding her arm, "They've got Gabriel."  
  
Angel slipped an arm around her and helped her straighten, shaking his head in negation.  
  
"If we don't get that arm looked after, you're liable to pass out." He advised.  
  
"No." she protested, pulling out of his grasp and taking a few wobbling steps.  
  
Angel stepped in front of her again to stop her, concern on his face.   
  
"We have to help him." She pleaded desperately, trying to ignore her wound, "You don't know Parker. He'll kill him."  
  
A selfish stab of jealousy pricked Angel's heart, but he quickly quelled it. Her concern was warranted, Gabriel's life was in greater danger than he had thought, but she was in no condition to fight. As soon as he got her to the hospital, he would go back after the Seventh Son himself. But not until he knew she was safe.  
  
"We'll find him, Buffy. Don't worry. Gabriel's a survivor." He assured her comfortingly, "But if we don't get you to the hospital, you might not be alive to see him."  
  
She seemed ready to continue regardless, but the strength of her resolve inevitably ebbed with the blood that oozed down the length of her arm.  
  
The pain and blood loss had weakened her too much and she slumped into his side, allowing him to catch her around the waist and hold her up. Supporting her with one arm, he walked her back in the direction of the mouth of the tunnel.  
  
***  
  
Gabriel pressed his fists knuckles-down against the floor, pumping up and down in a steady repetition of push-ups. His muscles burned and his body glowed with a light sheen of sweat, but he continued tenaciously, pushing the limits of his body.   
  
The confined space and sparse furnishings left him with few options to occupy his time with, so he made due with what he had. Besides, getting back into serious training could only help his chances of escape.  
  
"You know, they oughtta set you up one of those little wheels in the wall." Spike rolled his eyes and snorted, "Then you could run your bloody heart out."  
  
The vampire sat back against the rear wall of his cell, an everpresent dark cloud that shadowed Gabriel's determined optimism. He continued to refuse the bags of blood they dropped for him and hunger was beginning to wear on him, both physically and mentally. His attitude had only become more irascible with time.  
  
Gabriel continued exercising, using physical exertion to block out the vampire's needling voice. He had lost track of time since his capture and had no way of telling how long he had been underground, but every second seemed like an hour.   
Spike took perverse pleasure in reminding him of his plight, despite the fact that it was a shared condition. Anything to annoy him.  
  
He redoubled his efforts, driving his muscles harder than ever to force himself to focus. Over the steady puffing of his own breath, he heard the distant, near-silent hiss of a door opening somewhere close-by but out of his limited line of sight. Instantly, he hopped up into a crouch, balancing on the balls of his feet with the tips of his fingers just touching the floor.  
  
He watched impassively as a group of white-coated lab technicians entered the corridor and grouped together in front of his cell. They murmured amongst themselves, nodding and taking notes on neat clipboards with cool, clinical detachment. He watched them, watching him, feeling like a caged animal on display. A specimen, more likely.  
  
One of the coats ran a keycard through an electronic slot next to his cell and a faint whirring began. In a fraction of a second, Gabriel's mind formulated a plan of escape and he tensed imperceptibly, eyeing the Plexiglas wall as it started to rise slowly upward into the ceiling. The instant the opening was enough for him to fit through, he sprang across the floor for it, sliding under on his stomach.  
  
The coats jumped back as one, startled by his surprising burst of speed and he easily pushed through them, rolling to his feet and breaking into a full run down the corridor.  
  
One of the men cried out in panic and before the sound echoed once, a group of commandos emerged from around the corner, all armed with weapons that looked similar to police nightsticks, save that they had peculiar, clear caps on the ends.   
  
They had anticipated his move and been ready to intercept him, but he wouldn't surrender without a fight. Veering sharply, Gabriel bolted down a side passage and left the commandos behind. It was difficult to tell where he was headed, all the walls looked the same to him, but he was prepared to run as long as it took to escape.  
  
Another group of soldiers with nightsticks cut him off. He skidded to a halt and spun around, scrambling down another passage. The corridor curved and came back to the containment cell area, at the opposite end from which he had escaped, less than ten feet from where he had started.  
  
He silently cursed his misfortune as more commandos fell into formation behind him while the first group readied their nightsticks and advanced, trapping him between them. A sandy-haired young man stepped to the head of the forward group, his weapon held high and ready.  
  
"Stay on your toes, agents." Riley advised his companions, "He's tougher than he looks."  
  
Gabriel's eyes darted around desperately searching for any avenue of escape, but found none. Both groups of soldiers cautiously approached him, closing from opposite sides.  
  
"They got you cornered, Golden Boy!" Spike cheered from inside his cell, "Where you going to run now?!"  
  
Gabriel ignored the vampire's taunt and kept his attention focused solely on the lead commando. There were too many of them to fight through and even if he did get past, the seemingly endless, convoluted architecture of the complex was too confusing to enable a quick escape.  
  
"Just give up quietly and you won't get hurt." Riley suggested, clicking a switch on the base of his weapon and holding it out like a sword. A tiny, sky-blue light flared at its tip for an instant then faded out.  
  
Gabriel glared past the brandished weapon, tension crawling up his spine as the other soldiers collectively surrounded him. Baring his teeth in anger, he squared off with Riley.  
  
"I don't give up on anything." He spat, feinting with a punch then sharply reversing motion and lunging in the opposite direction.  
  
The soldiers behind him hadn't been prepared for the daring move and he took two of them down with a pair of well-placed uppercuts, diving after a third. Another soldier caught him around the arm and attempted to hold him, but a sharp backhand dropped the man, unconscious, to the floor. Gabriel waded into the remaining soldiers, hope soaring as he drew closer to open corridor.  
  
A nightstick jabbed into his ribs and instantly fiery pain lanced through his torso on the currents of stunning electricity. Gabriel screamed and stumbled, falling to one knee and gritting his jaw in pain.   
  
"Yeah!" Spike whooped excitedly, "Stick it to him, lads!"  
  
Another energy-charged weapon connected with Gabriel's shoulder and another jolt of white-hot agony instantly followed. He fell weakly forward onto the flawless white floor, barely clinging to consciousness. Tenaciously, he continued to pull himself along the cool surface, crawling up to a pair of neatly-laced boots until he felt a strong hand pin his shoulder to the floor.  
  
Flipping over, he reached up and grabbed the young soldier by the belt, hauling himself to his feet and blindly swinging his fist for young man's face. Riley deftly ducked the Seventh Son's weakened attack and jammed a stun-stick into his side, releasing another charge.  
  
Gabriel's body jerked violently as the jolt ripped through him and he passed out, having reached the limit of his endurance. He crumpled limply and fell into Riley's arms. The young soldier caught him around the torso, hauling his dead-weight body upright in his arms.  
  
From the confined space of his cell, Spike clapped his hands and laughed uproariously.  
  
"Wonderful job!" he congratulated sarcastically, "I haven't seen a show like that in ages. Punk really had it coming to 'im if you ask me."  
  
"We didn't." Riley replied sourly.  
  
One of the lab coats stepped up next to him and took Gabriel's jaw between thumb and forefinger, turning his face and inspecting him closely.  
  
"He's a stubborn one, isn't he?" the man commented disapprovingly, "But at least he's saved us the trouble of sedating him before the tests."  
  
Two more lab technicians wheeled around a gurney and helped Riley lift the unconscious vigilante onto it. Arranging his limbs with perfunctory ease, one of the technicians fastened wide, fabric straps over his chest and thighs, binding him down.  
  
"He shouldn't have tried to run." Riley mentioned, staring ruefully down at the unconscious young man.  
  
The technician moved around behind one end of the gurney and started pushing it down the hallway.  
  
"Thank you for your assistance, Agent Finn." He patted the young man's shoulder, "Continue to perform like this and Maggie might well forget about your past . . . difficulties."  
  
Riley took the verbal jab stoically. Despite his recent successes in the field, it seemed that his superiors were not quite ready to allow him to put the past behind him. He watched silently as Gabriel was wheeled away, only able to tear his eyes away when the gurney was completely out of sight.   
  
Spike stood grinning at him from the other side of his cell's Plexiglas wall.  
  
"He's right, you know." The vampire snickered, "Fantastic work. Next time though, how about getting a little more screamin' out of him before you put him down?"  
  
Riley shot a distasteful glance over his shoulder at him then turned to one of his companions.  
  
"Get the injured to the infirmary." He commanded, "Then it's back to regular duty assignments."   
  
The soldier straightened his back and saluted. Riley returned a short dismissive gesture and headed for the exit, pausing in the open doorway.  
  
"I'm going topside." He informed the subordinate, "Make certain I'm notified the second the vigilante is back in his cell."  
  
The soldier nodded agreement and Riley wasted no more time making an exit. For months, he had wanted nothing more than to be accepted back fully into the ranks of the Initiative, but now for some reason the place felt close and constricting. He couldn't wait to get back to the surface.  
  
***  
  
Wesley sat next to Giles' hospital bed with his hands folded in his lap. The room was silent, save for the slow repetitive beeping of an electronic heart monitor. Giles hadn't moved or made a sound once since he had been brought to the hospital.  
  
The thing about comas was that the chances of recovery dropped for every day he remained under. Every passing moment brought Giles closer to spending the rest of his days lying unconscious in a hospital bed.  
  
Wesley leaned forward in his chair toward Giles, his brow slightly furrowed. He shook his head regretfully as he remembered the first time he had met the older Watcher. So foolish, he had believed every word the Council had told him about Rupert's incompetent handling of the two Slayers. Blinded by his own pride, he had entered Sunnydale with a flaming brand of self-righteousness, ready to rout the forces of darkness and lead his new charges into the pages of history.  
  
Only he had lacked the ability and common sense to make the two unruly girls listen to him, let alone obey him. In those early days, he had resented Rupert's influence over the Slayers; the man had even forged his own little 'Scooby Gang' of dedicated volunteers who selflessly faced threats that should rightfully have remained the demesne of the Chosen Ones.  
  
The reason behind their devotion had been one of the first and hardest lessons Wesley had learned from the experienced Watcher. Respect was a right to be earned, not handed down by some effete, outdated committee. Only he hadn't realized until it was too late.  
  
He liked to think that his life after the Council had been an improvement, particularly the time he had spent in Angel's employ. Never before had he felt like he had accomplished so much in the name of good. He was more the Watcher he had wanted to be now than he had ever been while working for the Council.   
  
He pondered what Buffy's future would hold without Giles to guide her. She was obviously suffering, but there was no way she would ever accept another Watcher's help after the way the Council had betrayed her. If Giles did not come out of his coma soon, someone would have to help her in his stead.   
  
He preferred his life in LA, but he could not easily set aside the debt of honor and respect he owed Rupert, and he wondered if perhaps it was time for him to answer another calling.   
  
As much as he dreaded what it would mean for his old mentor, Wesley considered himself to be a worthy possible option. His own tarnished history with the Council and field experience at Angel's side would help him gain Buffy's trust. And his experience as a Watcher, as limited as it had been, could only prove useful.   
  
If the time came and the proverbial torch was passed to him, he would accept and resolve to spend every day living up to Giles' shining example. Looking to the older man's drawn and pale visage, he knew he could only hope to fill the void.  
  
Rubbing his tired eyes, he rose and went into the hallway where the others continued to hold a resilient vigil. They hardly seemed aware of him as he slipped into another seat, not much different from the one he had just vacated and stretched out.  
  
On one side of the hallway, Xander and Cordelia carried on a respectfully low-toned conversation alongside a window while Willow, Anya and Tara congregated near a candy machine at the opposite end.  
  
"Look at her!" Anya hissed in conspiratorial annoyance, her eyes locked on Cordelia, "I bet she's thinking about having sex with him. That outfit just screams it. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex."  
  
Tara turned wide, disbelieving eyes to Willow who merely shrugged helplessly.  
  
"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Anya." The auburn-haired witch offered, "Cordy and Xander were over even before she went to LA."  
  
"Yes, but now she's back." Anya insisted, "Xander told me how obsessed she was. I just know she's trying to get him back. Why else would she come all the way here?"  
  
"Don't worry." Tara placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, "I mean, I haven't known Xander long, but it seems to me like he really cares about you."  
  
Anya continued watching the pair like a hawk, her gaze never wavering. Cordelia burst into a gale of tittering laughter and dropped her hand onto Xander's arm.  
  
"She's touching him!" Anya's face knotted in fury and her hands clenched into small fists at her sides.  
  
Willow quickly hooked an arm around Anya's elbow while Tara did the same on her other side and the two girls held her back.  
  
"Relax, Anya." Willow advised quietly, "The last thing we need now is you starting a fight."  
  
Anya calmed somewhat and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.  
  
"Why?" She pouted petulantly, "We're already in a hospital."  
  
Willow sighed and looked to the other girl meaningfully, "You don't have anything to worry about. Xander is completely devoted to you."  
  
The statement mollified Anya somewhat, but she still held Cordelia with a suspicious stare.  
  
"I know he loves me, but you don't understand." She whined, "Xander's not very smart, he's vulnerable. Who knows what kind of sultry vixen-talk she's trying to tempt him with."  
  
***  
  
Cordy laughed and unconsciously placed her hand on Xander's arm.  
  
"This one time I had to cut a demon open with a hack-saw so we could get organ samples." She beamed, "It was so cool. I'm telling you, living in LA is the best thing that's ever happened to me."  
  
"I . . . see." Xander returned hesitantly, "And this was . . . AFTER you became an actress?"  
  
"During, actually." She smiled proudly, "Guess who was a semi-finalist for the Stain-Begone Hands?"  
  
"No kidding." He responded, "All that and prophetic visions, too."  
  
"Yeah, my schedule's pretty full." She sniffed, glancing absently out the window, "So what are you doing these days?"  
  
"Me?" Xander blurted, "I'm, uh, well, I'm into . . . uh, real estate."  
  
While Xander wasn't particularly ashamed of his occupation, he needed something more to impress the former 'Queen of Mean'. Her career had apparently taken off once she hit LA, how could an unassuming construction job measure up?  
  
"Really?" she arched a finely-kept eyebrow at him, "Willow said something about you building things. What are you, like an architect now?"  
  
Xander swallowed uncomfortably and cleared his throat, his face blank and his eyes unblinking.  
  
"Um . . . okay." He agreed stupidly.  
  
He instantly regretted letting his childish desire to outdo her get the better of him. If she started asking for any details he would be sunk.  
  
"Imagine that." She shrugged in surprise, "Who would have thought Xander Harris would get a job that didn't either involve a clown suit or a deep fryer?"  
  
Xander frowned and started with a witty retort when a nearby fire exit burst open and Angel rushed through, holding Buffy close to his side.   
  
He whirled around startled, gaping at the two. Both were disheveled and tired looking, their faces glowing with a slight sheen of sweat.  
  
Cordelia instantly burst into action, pulling a stake out of her purse and holding it out in front of her like a knife.  
  
"Oh, no, they're all flushed!" she cried in panic, "Everyone get your stakes!"  
  
Angel stopped and regarded her tiredly as he gently eased Buffy into one of the hallway chairs.  
  
"Nothing happened between us." He informed her curtly, "We just ran into some trouble."  
  
The others crowded around them and Willow crouched next to Buffy.  
  
"Trouble?" she queried worriedly, "What happened? Are you okay?"  
  
Buffy leaned forward, carefully holding her arm, and sighed tiredly.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be fine." She breathed weakly, trying to rise.  
  
"Not if you don't see a doctor." Angel intoned, standing over her in concern.  
  
Wesley immediately shot to his feet and nodded dutifully.  
  
"I'll get the nurse." He volunteered, rushing for the elevator.  
  
Buffy rose and winced, sucking air wetly through her teeth.  
  
"I don't have time to let some doctor poke and prod me." She declared with a measure of regained strength, shouldering her way through the assembled crowd, "They have Gabriel and I'm going to get him back."  
  
She wobbled as she took another step and Xander quickly steadied her.  
  
"Hold on, Buffy." He looked worriedly at her, "Who has him?"  
  
Xander didn't like the heartsick tone he heard in her voice. Less than a day had passed since Gabriel's capture, but there had been more than enough time to contemplate his friend's possible fate.   
  
Buffy paused to collect herself and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. Lifting her head, she released the breath slowly.  
  
"Parker." She said the name guiltily, as if she believed the whole ordeal to be her fault, "He was with Harmony. Seems like they have a lot in common now."  
  
"Harmony?" Xander's forehead furrowed confusedly, "Isn't she a - oh."  
  
He understood why Buffy might be blaming herself now, as ludicrous as the concept was. She'd had a brief episode of poor judgement during the period that she and Gabriel had been broken up and Parker had tried to capitalize on it. Fortunately, she had regained her senses before anything irrevocable had occurred, but if Parker had been killed in the vampire attack that night and later revived as a vampire, he would very likely be looking to hurt her. Most pointedly through hurting the ones she loved.  
  
"Great." Willow groaned, "Now the world's biggest jerk is also the world's biggest evil jerk."  
  
Cordelia blinked and scrunched her eyebrows together.  
  
"Excuse me, but since small town happenings tends to take a backseat to entertainment news in LA, could someone explain what you're talking about?"  
  
Xander answered first, spreading his hands and shifting uncomfortably on the spot.  
  
"Harmony sort of died," he explained calmly, "only in that endearing Sunnydale way of not actually staying dead."  
  
It was a little heartless to joke about the death of a former classmate, even if it was only Harmony, but humor was his natural reaction to tension. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how hard Cordelia would take the news. She and Harmony had been friends once, co-captains of their own elite little clique. They'd had a lot of history.  
  
"Harmony's a vampire now?" she deduced dryly, "Wow, I TOLD her to get out of Sunnydale."  
  
Wesley returned with the duty nurse in tow, practically dragging the woman along with him.  
  
"But I can't treat her if she hasn't gone through admitting!" the nurse protested.  
  
Angel gripped her other arm and swung her around so that she was standing in front of Buffy.  
  
"She's hurt." He stated plainly, "Help her."  
  
The nurse looked like she wanted to protest some more, but took one look at the serious expression on his face and held her tongue.  
  
"There's a surgeon in the lab down the hall." She relented, directing with an outstretched finger, "I'll bring a needle and some bandages and we can work out the red tape later."  
  
Angel nodded slightly, slipping an arm around Buffy's waist to help support her and leading her in the direction the nurse had indicated. The nurse paused at a supply closet to gather a few things and then followed close behind.  
  
Willow watched after them, worry showing in her eyes.  
  
"She'll be okay." Tara put a comforting arm around her shoulders, "The doctor will take care of her."  
  
"I guess you're right." Willow agreed, "I just hope Gabriel can hold on until we get to him."  
  
***  
Gabriel thrashed wildly, splashing and kicking at the surface of an endless expanse of water. His limbs reacted sluggishly, the futile effort to stay afloat tiring his limbs until they felt as heavy as lead. Unable to fight any more, he felt himself slip under, sinking ever deeper into the cool, dark depths.  
  
His lungs burned and his brain screamed for oxygen as the pressure of the depths began to squeeze him from all sides. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a pair of strong, gentle hands grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him back to the surface.  
  
He blinked and found himself laying in a sunny field of flowing green grass, perfectly dry with his head cradled in Buffy's lap. She wore a light, summer dress, relaxed and comfortable as a soft breeze carried her hair away from her face. Leaning down, she pressed her mouth over his and blew a warm, gentle breath into his lungs. His heart swelled with longing when she withdrew and looked down at him with smiling, loving eyes, the sun creating a luminescent halo behind her head.  
  
"I'm glad you saved me." He thanked her, taking one of her hands in his and giving it a soft squeeze.  
  
"It wasn't me." She smiled, stroking an errant lock of auburn hair away from his forehead, "You've always been a strong swimmer."  
  
Reaching up, he circled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her gently down on top of him. They kissed, the contact as sweet and wonderful as anything he could ever remember. He felt her smile and a familiar soft, sensual tingling arose between them, bathing them both in a blanket of intimate sensation.  
  
As they held one another, the sun sank smoothly down over the horizon and everything became dark and moonlit. Buffy sat up suddenly, alert and tense.  
  
"The sun's gone down." She realized belatedly, "He'll be able to come now. You just have to wait."  
  
She climbed off him and stood up, starting quickly for the far end of the field.   
Thick storm clouds rolled in at an impossibly fast rate, darkening the twilight sky into utter starless night.  
  
"Wait!" Gabriel jumped up and tried to chase her, but no matter how swiftly he ran, he seemed unable to catch up to her, "Where are you going?"  
  
She smiled brightly and waved to him, so far away now that he almost couldn't see her.  
  
"I have to go home!" she shouted from the distance, "Home is where the heart is!"  
  
"Wait!" he quickened his pace only to catch his foot in a tangle of weeds and fall headlong into the grass.  
  
He crawled to his hands and knees, his palm brushing rough asphalt. Looking up, he found himself at the end of Joyce Summers driveway. Xander paced slowly across the lawn, bent over and meticulously scanning the grass, oblivious to his existence. As he slowly combed the yard, Anya trailed along behind him, stifling small yawns of boredom. Daintily, she tapped him on the shoulder and held out an oversized magnifying glass. Xander started, jolted from his intense concentration, but thankfully accepted the item.  
  
Using the magnifying glass, he resumed his search, stopping abruptly when he nearly stepped on Gabriel.  
  
"Oh! There you are!" he remarked, surprised, "I thought we'd never find you. Sometimes it's hard to know where the heart of the problem is."  
  
The young man offered out his hand and helped Gabriel to his feet. As Gabriel brushed himself off, Xander looked at him curiously.  
  
"Shouldn't you be getting home now?" he urged anxiously, "It's really dark."  
  
"Yeah." Anya smiled smugly, "Look how dark it is."  
  
Gabriel wordlessly agreed, setting out at a steady jog for his apartment. It wasn't far and he reached his front door in the blink of an eye. The door was locked and he had to dig out his keys to get in. Fumbling around, he inserted the key into the lock and turned it, allowing the door to swing open.  
  
Inside it was dreadfully silent and he crept cautiously through the entrance archway into the darkness. The murk made him nervous, vulnerable in the usual safety of his own home.  
  
"Buffy?" he called, wandering further into the apartment toward his bedroom.  
  
The door was ajar and he could see movement inside. Quietly stepping closer, he nudged the door open and gasped in shock at the sight that greeted him.  
  
Buffy lay naked in his bed, her legs wrapped around the body of the man on top of her. Her head tilted back, she gasped and writhed in time to her lover's rhythm. She looked directly into Gabriel's eyes and held them, smiling wantonly as the man above her turned his face to look over his shoulder.  
  
It was Angel, his vampire features fully manifested.  
  
"The heart of darkness will save you, brother." Angel closed his yellow eyes and groaned as he rocked against Buffy again, "Only through pain will you find freedom."  
  
Gabriel clenched his fists angrily, jealousy roaring through his bloodstream. He tackled Angel, hooking a forearm around his throat and dragging him off Buffy. A terrible sound like the rushing of a thousand birds of prey filled his ears as he locked his hands around the vampire's throat.   
  
"I hate you." He snarled, heat rushing to his face and blotting out the edges of his vision, "Why couldn't you just stay away?"  
  
He bore down on the vampire, channeling the bulk of his hurt and anger into his hands.  
  
Angel struggled to escape, but Gabriel's rage added incredible strength to his grip and his hold could not be broken. Teeth gritted, the Seventh Son shoved Angel down under a layer of water that had begun to arise from the floor. As the water reached up around his wrists, he squeezed with all his might, ready to put his fingers completely through the vampire's windpipe.  
  
"Don't do it, Gabriel." A familiar voice cut through the screaming fury in his ears.  
  
Gabriel lifted his head, his hands still clenched around Angel's throat and found himself sitting in almost a foot of cold water. Giles, Joyce, Xander and Willow stood together in a group near his bed, now empty and neatly made.  
  
"Don't." Giles repeated imploringly.  
  
Xander nodded, stepping forward in concern.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid of the dark, you know." He shrugged matter-of-factly.  
  
Gabriel frowned uncertainly, allowing his anger to slowly ebb.  
  
"He's right." Willow agreed supportively.  
  
Dropping his eyes back down to Angel's struggling face, Gabriel felt the rage resurge anew. Fingers trembling, he started to squeeze again.  
  
The group parted and Buffy pushed her way through, wearing the same summer dress she had been in earlier. Stopping just ahead of her mother, she sighed and looked down at him in worry.  
  
"You haven't forgotten how to swim." She reminded him softly, "But you have to try."  
  
"What?" he responded, realizing suddenly that the water had risen up to his neck level.  
  
Angel's body dissolved underneath him and the meager light in the room focused into a single cylindrical beam from above that illuminated only him and Buffy. They were alone in the center of a dark, endless expanse of slowly rippling water.   
  
Wading over to him, Buffy took his head gently in her hands. He tried to rise, but he seemed mired to the spot, his chin lifting just above the surface.   
  
"I know you can still swim." She smiled lovingly, "And you know it, too. In your heart."  
  
The unseen floor gave way and he dropped sharply under the surface, plunging into the cold, weightless depths.  
  
Jerking awake, Gabriel bolted upright in the palette that served as his bed, his body sheened with chill sweat. His heart thudded painfully in his chest and he sat forward, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He was back in his cell again, trapped.  
  
"Bad dream?" Spike sneered at him from across the hallway.  
  
In the opposite cell, the vampire sat on the floor, leaning back against the far wall. His face looked thin and paler than usual with dark circles around his eyes. Discarded beside him were half a dozen plastic bags filled with dark burgundy blood.  
  
Gabriel lifted his head and shook it regretfully, his pulse slowing to a more comfortable rate.   
  
"You know, seeing you get zapped almost makes it worth getting dragged down here." Spike continued cheerily, "Come on, do it again, huh?"  
  
"Shut up, Spike." Gabriel grumbled, rising and stretching the kinks from his back and shoulders.  
  
The recent electrocutions had left his body feeling sore and tight, even more than his accelerated Slayer-like healing could deal with.  
  
"I don't know if you really want me to." The vampire alluded, "I hear a lot of things from in here. Soldier-boys brought in a vamp last night that had some interesting news."  
  
Gabriel squinted his eyes and scowled in annoyance, lacking any patience for Spike's cryptic statement.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
Spike sat up and crouched close to the clear wall of his cell, careful not to touch it.  
  
"Poor chap said he got into a bit of a row with the Slayer and that there was a vampire helping her." He leaned forward, cruel mirth glittering in his dark eyes, "Now who do you think that might be?"  
  
"Shut up, Spike." Gabriel snapped, not wanting to think about the frightening possibilities.  
  
He swallowed tensely and quelled a sudden trembling in his hands. Angel's appearance in his dream had disturbed him, but he had been prepared to chalk it up as just that, a dream. Now it seemed that it had a much more serious meaning. Prophecy, he wondered, trying not to worry. While he would trust Buffy with his life, a small part of him doubted. The spectre of the vampire's history with her had always hung over him and no matter how much he loved her, he often wondered if he would ever be able to measure up. He silently resolved to redouble his escape efforts. The sooner he was reunited with Buffy, the better.  
  
"Not too happy to hear he's back, are you?" Spike observed with melodramatic surprise, "I wonder if little Buffy feels the same? Not that anything could happen with the two of them all alone up there. Any bets on whether he's still got his soul?"  
  
Gabriel's mouth tightened angrily and his fists unconsciously clenched.  
  
"Spike. Shut. Up." He spat the words out irritably.  
  
Spike chuckled and narrowed his eyes, enjoying the pain he had inflicted with his petty needling.  
  
A door at the end of the corridor slid open and a set of footsteps approached. Riley rounded the corner, carrying a plastic-covered tray in his hands, and stopped in front of Gabriel's cell.  
  
"I brought you some food." He indicated the tray, setting it on the floor against the Plexiglas, "I figured you'd be getting hungry by now."  
  
Gabriel's stomach tightened. He couldn't smell the food or even see it, but he was starving. Stubbornly, he tried to ignore the emptiness in his belly.  
  
"I'm fine." He lied, folding his arms over his chest and turning his back to the hallway.  
  
"Come on, now." The soldier sighed, using his keycard to open the Plexiglas enough for him to slide the tray under, "Every man's gotta eat."  
  
The glass slid back into place and Gabriel considered the tray speculatively. Starving himself might make a point, but it wouldn't help him escape. He needed to keep himself in top condition. With tentative slowness, he crouched down and lifted the top, releasing a warm wash of steam and wonderful smells to waft toward the ceiling. The food was neatly divided into individual compartments with a styrofoam cup filled with milk and a white, plastic fork on the side. One of the divisions contained four tiny pills in a variety of colors and shapes.  
  
"What are those?" he pointed suspiciously to the pills as he carefully sampled a slice of gravy-drenched beef.  
  
"They'll help you feel better." Riley squatted down into a more comfortable, casual position at eye level with the other young man.  
  
Gabriel stopped chewing and swallowed, his appetite suddenly gone.  
  
"I don't take drugs." He declared sharply, dropping his fork back onto the tray.  
  
"This is medicine." Riley corrected, frowning in confusion.  
  
"I've heard that before." Gabriel snorted, gathering the pills into his hand and tossing them with disgust against the Plexiglas, "I'm not taking them."  
  
Riley sat back thoughtfully, watching the pills clatter to the floor.  
  
"You were an addict." He guessed astutely, appearing surprised by his own deduction.  
  
Gabriel hopped up and sat on the edge of his bed, pressing his back to the wall and staring at the young soldier with a steady intensity.  
  
"As you might have noticed, I tend to learn things the hard way."  
  
An unfamiliar woman in a white lab coat appeared soundlessly from the same door that Riley had come through.  
  
"As, sometimes, do we." She stated, announcing her arrival.  
  
Riley jumped up and snapped to rigid attention, his eyes fastened straight ahead. The woman strolled past him without regard, her attention entirely focused on Gabriel as she stopped in front of his cell. She was very stern-looking with short-cropped blonde hair and a serious stride. Holding a tidy clipboard in her hands, she read aloud from the top page.  
  
"Gabriel Lochlan Giles," she recited, "Born September twenty-ninth, nineteen eighty-one at Mercy general hospital in London, England."  
  
She noted Gabriel's surprise and smiled smugly to herself.  
  
"You have been trained in a wide variety of locales over the last decade, ranging from Japan to Africa to Scotland, all under recognized experts in their specific fields." She continued, folding the clipboard under her arm and standing squarely before his cell, "Very impressive credentials. I look forward to seeing how well you test."  
  
Gabriel slipped forward off his palette and approached her with narrowed eyes.  
  
"Who are you?" he demanded, "How do you know me?"  
  
The woman nodded shortly, having fully expected his response.  
  
"My name is Professor Maggie Walsh." She revealed with the dryness of a clinical lecture, "I am the ranking officer at this facility. As to how we obtained your personal information? It turns out it was right in front of us all along."  
  
Gabriel waited in stony silence for her to continue and she accepted his surliness without concern.  
  
"You might remember a man named Ethan Rayne from your childhood? I believe he was a business associate of your father's. Well, Mister Rayne has been a guest of one of our rehabilitation facilities for some time now and offered to be very forthcoming in exchange for his release."  
  
"So now I know who you are and you know who I am." Gabriel's lips thinned in a bitter expression, "What do you want with me?"  
  
The professor raised her eyebrows and folded her hands together over the clipboard at her waist.  
  
"According to preliminary testing and Agent Finn's reports, it seems you are quite a talented young man. We hope to be able to understand the source of your abilities. Of course, you'll need to run through a few training exercises first."  
  
Gabriel snorted and jutted his chin defiantly.  
  
"Forget it." He folded his arms tightly over his chest.  
  
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter." She inclined her head in Riley's direction, "Agent Finn?"  
  
Gabriel watched through narrowed eyes as a small contingent of soldiers marched dutifully into the corridor and stopped next to the professor. As one, they each drew a nightstick identical to the ones that had been used earlier to shock him into unconsciousness and flicked the power switches. A tense chill ran down Gabriel's spine as the corridor was filled with a series of short-lived electrical flashes and low humming sounds. His body remembered the pain that chorus heralded.   
  
Riley accepted a stun-stick of his own from one of the soldiers and powered it up, approaching Gabriel's cell apprehensively.  
  
"Don't make this hard on yourself." He requested, "Just do what she asked. Come on, hands in the air."  
  
Gabriel's mouth turned down in a hard frown. Glaring back and forth between the professor and Riley, he considered his options. The soldiers waited in uneasy readiness, stun-sticks ready. He wanted to fight them again, to vent his outrage at being imprisoned, but that would only earn him another electrocution. Faced with no acceptable solution, he waited silently, wrought with indecision. Finally, dissatisfied with his dismal choices, he sighed roughly and slowly raised his hands over his head.  
  
Cautiously, Riley raised the Plexiglas wall and his companions surrounded Gabriel in a tight circle, preparing for another escape attempt. He allowed them to lead him through the maze-like corridors, deeper into the heart of the complex until they reached a large open area. The chamber was an odd oval dome, completely smooth like the inside of a bubble. Overhead, the high ceiling was lined with rows of bright halogen lights.  
  
The guards parted enough to allow Gabriel to see the interior of the room. A young black soldier dressed in khaki pants and a tight tank top stood at the center of a raised platform that was enclosed by an octagon of chain link fence. A number of light sensors were set along each wall, drifting around in gradual complicated patterns. The sensors randomly emitted beams of pale, pink light, centered on the young soldier. He dove and ducked nimbly, whipping his limbs around to intercept as many light beams as he could with electronic sensors that had been fastened to his hands and feet. The machinery was some kind of reflex tester, Gabriel realized, designed to sharpen a person's reaction time and intuitive senses.  
  
Professor Walsh stopped next to a man in a lab coat who sat before an electronic console displaying a series of digital read-outs.  
  
"Agent Gates." She noted as the young man on the platform agilely intercepted another sensor flash, "How is he scoring?"  
  
"Seven percent above average so far." The lab-coat reported, "Impressive."  
  
The Professor watched silently as agent Gates quickly caught two beams in succession and bounced back desperately against the chain-link fence, rebounding into the center of the testing area. Instantly, a pair of pink light-dots appeared on his back and a buzzer sounded. Gates raised his hands in surrender and the obstacle course shut down, whirring slowly into dormancy. Pausing a moment for one of the technicians to open the door, he grinned cockily and strolled up to the console.  
  
"So how'd I do, Doc?" he ripped open the velcro straps anchoring the sensors to him and leaned casually forward, peering over the back of the machine at the readouts.  
  
"Eight-point-seven percent over average, Agent Gates." The man nodded, accepting the sensors from him, "A personal record for you, I believe."  
  
"What can I say? This is my game." he grinned proudly, pausing abruptly and scowling when his eyes fell on Gabriel, "What's he doing here?"  
  
"We're going to put him through some training sims, see how he measures up." The Professor replied, handing four new sensors to Gabriel.   
  
He stared blankly at her, refusing to accept them until Riley cleared his throat and flicked the switch on his stun-stick as a reminder. Slowly and deliberately, Gabriel fastened the sensors to his hand and feet.  
  
With a nod of her head, the Professor signaled Gabriel's armed entourage to herd him toward the fenced-in octagon. A few sharp shoves had the Seventh Son standing just inside the fence's perimeter.   
  
"The goal of this exercise is to intercept as many beams from the light emitters as possible. Sensors built into the wrist and ankle braces will gauge the speed, strength and accuracy of your movements." The Professor instructed him as the chain-link door was shut and latched, "Do you understand?"  
  
When he didn't answer, she turned to the technician at the control panel, "Start up the simulator."  
  
The technician punched a series of buttons and immediately the emitters inside the cage started moving again. A warning tension crawled up Gabriel's spine and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He ignored the instinctive urge to react, instead moving only fast enough to block one beam from the first volley of six.  
  
Another beam flashed in front of his face and he shot his arm out awkwardly, purposely missing. The Initiative could force him to undertake their tests, but Gabriel was determined to resist their efforts at every turn.  
  
Riley anxiously watched Professor Walsh eye the console readout. As Gabriel continued with his lackluster performance, her expression began to register more and more of what he could only interpret as stoic disappointment.  
  
"Perhaps my earlier expectations were too high." She commented dourly, "After all, he is only human."  
  
Riley approached the cage, his face almost against the chain-links.  
  
"Come on, quit screwing around." He hissed in a low voice, feeling the pressure of the Professor's gaze boring into his back, "I know you're faster than this."  
  
Gabriel silently fixed him with an impassive stare and purposely missed another light beam.  
  
"That's enough." The Professor barked, "Shut down the sim."  
  
The light emitters whirred slowly into dormancy. The auburn-haired young man stopped participating in the exercise entirely and squared off with Forrest through the cage, his eyes narrowed and dangerous. A pair of technicians unlatched he door and as soon as Gabriel stepped out, Forrest planted himself squarely in front of him.  
  
"I knew it." His lips thinned triumphantly, folding his arms across his chest and snorting in amusement, "Boy ain't nothin' but a punk."  
  
Riley flinched at his companion's remark, noting how it sparked an angry fire in Gabriel's eyes, but he knew why Forrest was giving Gabriel such a hard time. Forrest was one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the base and prided himself on his prowess. During their encounter on Halloween, the vigilante had knocked him out with a single clean punch. It was obvious that Forrest's pride had suffered most of the damage that night and the wound was still open.  
  
As Forrest's hand slowly clenched into a fist, Riley rushed forward and gripped his friend by the shoulder.  
  
"Come on, Forrest. That's enough." he urged, trying to pull him back.  
  
"No, I got this, Riley." Forrest assured him, shrugging off the hand, "So what do you say, Hotshot? Just you and me. Right here."  
  
"You're pretty cocky for a guy who didn't even leave a mark on my fist." Gabriel snorted dismissively and shouldered past the young black man, "Get out of my way."  
  
Forrest spun with him and grabbed him by the arm, jerking him around and swinging a fist toward his jaw. Gabriel instinctively knocked the strike away and slammed him to the floor with a sharp blow to the chest.   
  
Riley jumped between the two and Gabriel smoothly shoved him to the floor as he advanced on Forrest.  
  
A number of soldiers went for their stun-sticks, but Professor Walsh halted them with an outstretched hand, her interest piqued by the confrontation.  
  
As Forrest charged and tackled Gabriel around the waist, two more commandos piled on him from the sides. The Seventh Son drove a sharp elbow into one man's ribs and butted another in the face with his forehead. Snagging Forrest's wrist in mid-punch, he twisted the arm and wrenched it up behind hs back. A hard palm heel to the center of his back sent the black man face first into the cage.  
  
Professor Walsh slipped behind the control console and placed her hand on the operating technician's shoulder, her eyes locked on the battle.  
  
"Switch the sensors to freeform kinetics." she commanded, an eager light in her eyes as she continued to watch, enrapt.  
  
"This is incredible." The technician gaped as the luminescent readouts began to display, "He's at thirty-two percent over average. Forty-two. Sixty-seven. Ninety-six. I can't believe this!"  
  
The Professor smiled proudly, "I knew he wouldn't disappoint me."  
  
Gabriel slammed his toes into the meaty part of a soldier's thigh and then took him clean off his feet with a sharp uppercut. As the fight continued, more and more soldiers joined in but Gabriel met the challenge with grim, efficient focus. Anger and outrage surged through his adrenaline-laden bloodstream and he became harder to remember not to seriously hurt any of his opponents.  
  
The Initiative had made him powerless, forcing him into situations where he had no choice but to concede to their wishes. He wanted revenge now, to hurt them the way they had hurt him.  
  
His face an angry grimace, he straight-armed a charging commando in the sternum, dropping the man into a heap at his feet with a strangled gasp of pain. Occasionally, he felt a fist hit him as he fought, but the attacks caused him no pain. He was too caught up in the bloodlust to pay them any heed.   
  
Whirling, he caught his newest attacker around the throat and pinned him to the wall. Riley Finn choked and coughed, struggling futilely to get free as his feet dangled half a foot off the floor. It would be so easy to crush his windpipe, Gabriel realized. There wasn't a thing he or anyone else could do to stop him.  
  
Finn's blue eyes flicked up agitatedly, both his hands straining to pry away the hand at his throat, and Gabriel came to a sobering realization. This wasn't a vampire or demon he had trapped against the wall, but a human being not much older than himself. All thoughts of vengeance disipated instantly.  
  
Driving a solid kick into an attacking soldier's mid-section, Gabriel tossed Riley's crumpled body into a group of three others and made a break for the door.  
  
"Stop him!!" Professor Walsh shouted.  
  
Two commandos drew stun-sticks, but before they could bring the weapons to bear, Gabriel dropped them both without slowing, one with a dislocated jaw, the other with three shattered ribs.  
  
He hadn't meant to use so much force on them, but desperation had added extra power to the blows. He wouldn't let them recapture him again. As he approached the open doorway, Forrest skidded directly across his path, a stun-stick in each hand.  
  
Determined to get through, he charged and managed to knock aside the first weapon, but the second jabbed into his ribs before he could get past.  
  
The stunning force ripped through him and he stumbled and gritted his teeth in pain but forced himself to keep running. A hard shove slammed Forrest into the wall and Gabriel bounded down the hallway, an entire team of Initiative commandos in pursuit.  
  
Another open archway lead down yet another featureless corridor that ended in a T-junction. In the center of the long wall was a secure metal door, plated with warnings and black-and-yellow caution signs. Gabriel skipped to a halt as the door hissed softly open and an older-looking man in a lab coat backed out furtively into the hall.  
  
"This way!" one of his pursuers shouted from not far behind him.  
  
Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, Gabriel made a desperate break for the door before it closed again. He shoved the startled man aside and grabbed the keycard from his hand, dipping his shoulder and ducking through.   
  
The door closed securely behind him, completely blocking the sound of his pursuers. Inside, the chamber was different than any other part of the complex he had seen so far. Illuminated by soft, blue light, it was very small and semi-circular with no sign of another exit.   
  
Damn it! He had hoped the heavy-duty door would lead him to the surface, but instead, he found himself trapped in a room no bigger than his cell. Frustrated, Gabriel slammed both fists against the flat wall opposite the door and slumped forward, pressing his forehead to the plain surface. The wall was completely bare and featureless, save for a two-button panel on one side, but it felt very solid.  
  
With a stressful sigh, he let his shoulders slump and flattened his palms against the wall.   
  
A sick chill crawled up his spine and he felt an oddly familiar presence on the other side. Unconsciously, his hand reached for the side panel and he felt compelled to press the top button. With a near-silent whir, a large section of the wall rose into the ceiling, exposing a layer of Plexiglas that looked into another room.  
  
The odd feeling doubled in intensity and Gabriel froze in shock as he stared through the clear barrier. Directly opposite him on the other side stood a creature unlike anything he had ever seen.  
  
Easily over seven feet tall, it appeared to be some sort of impossible hybrid of man, demon and machine. Gleaming chrome plates adorned specific areas of its body and dark, scarred seams joined its various organic parts into a hideously mismatched whole.  
  
The hybrid raised a pallid palm and pressed it against the glass, staring impassively at him with one human eye and its bloodshot demonic mate. On closer inspection, Gabriel noted that while the creature's metallic and demonic components seemed to be in good working order, its human parts were withered and graying.  
  
The familiar feeling tugged at him again and, unconsciously, he raised his hand and mirrored the peculiar being. Palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip, both experienced a faint stinging sensation through the layer of scientifically strengthened Plexiglas.  
  
Gabriel held the creature's unblinking gaze, his throat suddenly dry with fear. It was said that all Chosen Ones exuded an aura, an unmistakable energy that could only be felt by other Chosen Ones. With Buffy, that energy manifested as a sensuous, intimate tingling, something he had learned to savor. But Slayers and Seventh Sons were not the only ones to be chosen by fate. In the extensive travels of his youth, Gabriel had learned of beings of both human and demonic origins who championed the forces of darkness. He knew without a doubt that he was standing before such a champion right now.  
  
"What are you?" he gasped, pulling his hand away and rubbing the discomfort from his palm.  
  
Instantly, the hybrid's eyes shot over Gabriel's shoulder as the metal door hissed sharply open, and it dropped back defensively. Gabriel only whirled around half way before the first stun-stick hit him in the back. He screamed and hit the floor as at least six soldiers piled through the open door. Two more stunners hit him simultaneously and he convulsed sharply, instinctively curling into a ball as more attacks followed. Kicking blindly, head swimming with pain, he scrambled back against the wall, but there was no escape. A tattoo of sharp electrical crackles filled the room and he screamed one last time before he fell into total blackness.  
  
***  
  
END OF PART 02 


End file.
